Quick Fix (32 page)

“And so it was,” Billy said to him, and peeled several hundred dollar bills off a wad he’d taken from his pocket. “The joke was on me. Here you go. Thanks for your trouble. I’ll be in touch if I need you.”

“Wait,” I said to the guy. “At the party you were wearing Billy’s shirt—where did you get it?”

“A package of clothes came in the mail. I put them on and did the job. That’s all. Thanks for the cash.” The guy walked off, happy, disappearing into the mist.

Huh. Funny how that had never occurred to me. But who sent the clothes?

Molly pulled her hand from my grip, ran to her brother, and hugged him. (Yeah, she pretty much hugged him every time she saw him. She’s a huggy girl.) I resisted the impulse to follow suit, figuring I wouldn’t want to stop at hugging, and why torture myself?

“Should you let him go like that?” I said. “Don’t you think Mark might want to talk to him?”

“The guy is harmless. He doesn’t even know who hired him—he was contacted anonymously over the phone.”

“You’re sure he’s harmless? What if he’s the one who shot Laura? Maybe he’s not as dumb as he looks.”

“Hey!”

I shrugged. “Sorry. It’s his expression. And his voice.”

Molly laughed. “Yeah. He sounded like that guy on
The Simpsons
.”

“Whatever,” Billy said, but he still looked disgruntled. “I can assure you that he’s every bit as dumb as he
sounds
. There’s no way he could have shot Laura—even Laura admits the person who shot her looked nothing like me.”

“When did you talk to Laura about that? I thought you could only play fly-on-the-wall at the safe house.”

“I called her—it was after talking with her that I started to wonder if I could really trust her. Look, come on. We’d better go.”

Taking Molly by one hand and me by the other, he led us off the bridge toward East Street. He kept up a good pace, making conversation all but impossible—Molly and I practically had to jog to keep up with him.

“What’s the rush?” I said, pulling back.

He slowed, but not by much. “We’re meeting someone. Well, technically, you’ve already met her.”

“Who?”

He stopped. A woman walked toward us from out of the shadows beneath a tree with low-hanging branches. “Her.”

When she stepped into the cold glow of an LED streetlight I got a better look at her. “Thelma Parker?” I said, shocked, and stared up at Billy. “But she’s the one who hired Suze, and Suze is the one who—”

Billy expelled an exasperated breath. “Nobody killed Monica,” he said. “And Thelma—Thelma-
not
-Parker—is employed by the same outfit that Mark is, only much higher up the ladder.”

“I know,” I said, feeling defensive all of a sudden. This was the woman who, according to Mark, was out to get her own pet adaptor. Could Mark be wrong? Was that even possible? Frankly, it wasn’t something I’d ever considered seriously before.

“Ms. Halligan,” Thelma said, extending her hand. “It’s so nice to see you again.”

Her grip was much firmer than the last time I’d shaken her hand, when I was gathering pre-job info from her. Almost painful, actually. It was hard not to let myself release first, but I managed. She dropped my hand a fraction of a second before our little game would have become ridiculous.

“Likewise, I’m sure,” I said, keeping my voice cool. “So, what did you tell the FONZ board of directors? I’m assuming you’re no longer interested in a position?”

She laughed, a brittle sound at odds with her soft face. “My secretary has informed them that a family crisis has come up, and I won’t be able to sit on the board after all. They were quite understanding about it … once they received my generous donation to their Giant Panda Conservation fund, of course.”

“Of course,” I said. “And Sir Pantsalot? Was he for real, or just a plant?”

A look of distaste spread over her features. “Oh, he’s real enough, the odious toad. He pulled the same routine on a friend of mine who wanted to be a board member. By the way, thank you for dealing with him so creatively.”

“You’re welcome,” I said wryly. “So, not to be crass or anything, but will the check Thelma ‘Parker’ gave me clear? Or did I donate my services to Uncle Sam on that one?”

“It will clear,” she said with another dry chuckle. “If you come along with me now, you may even get a bonus. I know your time is money.”

“I don’t understand. If you weren’t interested in the board position, why go through that charade?”

“Think of it as a kind of interview, my dear.”

“What? You want me to work for you at the Agency?”

“Yes, actually. I do want that. But we’ll discus it later. Now, come along. It’s time we were off.”

I was about to object—vociferously—to the idea of going anywhere with her when Billy interrupted me. “Ciel, she’s here to help. She’s going to take you and Molly someplace safe until after this mess is straightened out and Harvey is no longer a threat to anyone.”

“You know what? I think I’d better run this by Mark first,” I said, and reached for my phone. Billy snatched it from me. “What the fu—” I darted a glance at Molly. “—uuudge are you doing? Give that back!”

He held it out of reach while Thelma explained. “It wouldn’t be a good idea to contact Mark right now. He’s in too deep with Harvey Smith. No disrespect intended, Ciel, but he’s been entirely hoodwinked by Smith.”

“Oh, so we’re back on a first-name basis now? Well, thank you for your concern, Thel, but I think I’d still like to discuss the matter with Mark first. If you don’t mind.” Yeah. Maybe a tad disrespectful, but something about the woman really got my dander up. I liked her a lot better when she was meek and mousy.

“
I
mind, Ciel,” Billy said. “I won’t let you risk yourself—or my little sister—out of some misguided loyalty to Mark.”

Molly, who had been uncharacteristically quiet during this whole interchange, spoke up. “I think we’d better do what Billy says, Ciel.” It was the shadow of fear in her eyes that made me agree.

“Are you coming with us?” I asked Billy.

“I can’t. Now that you’re safe I have to find Mark and convince him Harvey’s the one who’s been after more adaptors, and that Laura might be helping him. That won’t be easy—you know how stubborn Mark can be.”

I sighed. He was that. It wasn’t tough to imagine him being blinded by loyalty, either, much as I hated to think of it. But Laura … God, what would Thomas do? He’d seemed so damn happy. Then again, so had she. “I just can’t see Laura involved in this. For God’s sake, Billy, she was working with you. And she was
shot
.” Seemed like that would convince anyone of her innocence.

Billy looked thoughtful. “Yeah, she was. But, as it turns out, not fatally. And then she tried to implicate
me
.”

I screwed up my brow. “You’re not saying she let herself get shot on purpose, are you? That’s ridiculous—nobody is that big an idiot.”

“Maybe she didn’t know about that part. Maybe Harvey surprised her. Or, hell, maybe it was an accident. I don’t know. All I know is, she let the cops think it was me behind the gun.”

“She told me that was to protect you.”

“Oh, sure. Because nothing says ’protection’ like sending a guy to jail.”

Crap
. He had a point. When I’d been with Laura, I’d totally believed her, but what if I was wrong? Maybe I was deluding myself because of Thomas. He’d already been hurt by her once before. If things went south this time, no telling how long it would be before he’d trust another woman. And not to get all selfish about it, I was kind of counting on his being involved with Laura to deflect his overdeveloped protective instincts from me.

Thelma had been carefully assessing me this whole time, her eyes full of speculation. I
hate
being carefully assessed. It made me want to stick my tongue out at her, but I didn’t. That wouldn’t set a good example for Molly. “What?” I said to her, testy, not liking the smell of this whole thing.

She smiled benignly, trying to look like a trustworthy grandmother, I was sure. “I know this is hard for you, Ciel. You’re a good person, and you want to believe only the best of your friends. But I’m afraid you can’t trust your gut on this one. It isn’t safe for you
or
Molly. So trust Billy.”

Billy stared at me intently, his inky blue eyes begging me to agree, tugging at my heart, and maybe a few other places. Then I looked at Molly, who was holding tightly to his hand, confused and scared. Once again, I didn’t see a choice. I sighed. “Okay. We’ll go with you.”

Billy’s mouth lifted at the corners; he was satisfied.

As was Thelma. “That’s fine, then. If you’ll just come along with me.” She turned and raised a hand. A man—a big one, young, buzz-cut, dressed in a suit that was a tight fit across his shoulders—emerged from the dark beneath the nearby trees. I must have looked concerned, because Thelma was quick to introduce him as her driver.

“Right,” I said. “Just give us a second to say good-bye, okay?”

“Fine.” She nodded pleasantly, and went to stand by her driver, tactfully turning her back.

Billy leaned over to hug Molly. “So long, squirt. Behave for Ciel.” Molly nodded, and got out of the way, looking from me to her brother with undisguised fascination.

I cleared my throat. Aggressively. Molly reluctantly stepped a few yards farther away and turned her back.

Billy pulled me into his arms and tilted my face up for a kiss. I felt the thrill of anticipation I always did when Billy was near. He leaned down, touched his lips to mine, and kissed me deeply.

I froze.
Fuck!

Chapter 27

I tore my mouth away from his and stared up into his familiar dark blue eyes, not liking what I saw there one bit.

He acknowledged my shock with a fuck-me curve of his lips and a lazy chuckle. Devon. I’d been wearing James’s aura the last time he’d kissed me, but the technique was unmistakable. “What gave me away?” he said.

“Hate to break it to you, Devon, but Billy’s a better kisser than you are.”

“Guess I’ll just have to find out for myself one day, won’t I? Maybe as
you
. That could be fun.”

Anger flashed through me. I acted without thinking, lifting my knee with great force and an instinctive aim. If I’d been taller, I might have spared the world any future little Devons or Devonettes. Still, I’d managed to surprise him into releasing me, doubling him over.

“Billy!” Molly shouted, shocked out of her ten-year-old mind to see me do that. She ran to help, but I intercepted her.

“Molly,
stop
. Listen to me. That is
not
your brother.”

As if to verify my statement, the Billy aura started wavering.

I didn’t wait for it to sink in—I just grabbed Molly’s hand and took off in the opposite direction from Thelma, heading for the cover of the trees, praying we had enough of a head start on her and the Hulk. I was pretty sure Devon wouldn’t be running anywhere for a while.

A quick look back over my shoulder revealed the Billy aura totally gone, replaced by … geez, was that
Monica
? What the fuck? But I guess it made sense for Devon to call up a female aura—one that didn’t have the injured appendage. Not that he wouldn’t still feel some pain—you can’t get rid of that entirely—but it wouldn’t be as bad once its epicenter was gone. And it would allow him to run without adding further injury.

Which is exactly what he, along with Thelma’s driver, was doing. Thelma herself was apparently too high up the food chain to be bothered.
Or else she’s back there phoning for reinforcements,
I thought, and then really wished that hadn’t occurred to me.

Molly kept up amazingly well for someone with legs even shorter than mine, but neither one of us was going to stay very far ahead in the long haul. We needed to find some transportation, and fast.

Through the trees, I veered onto the pedestrian path that skirted the pond, and headed south toward 59th, grateful for the fog that provided at least a little cover. There
had
to be a taxi there.
Please, please, please …

Gaaah.
Only there wasn’t. Not one. (There’s a reason New Yorkers complain they can never get a cab when they really need one.)

The only transportation in sight was of the equine variety—two horse-drawn carriages. Their drivers were standing together away from the horses, sucking down cigarettes while they waited for the late-night passengers who had reserved them to make up their minds who was going to ride in which carriage with whom. The debate was lively; the drivers looked bored.

Molly was flagging. An energetic child she might have been, but she was still a kid, and a pretty small one. She couldn’t keep up the pace forever, and frankly, neither could I. The way I saw it, there was only one thing to do.

I lifted Molly into the first carriage. Jumped in behind her, grabbing the reins and releasing the brake at the same time. “Hyah!” I said.

The horse twisted its head back, with an are-you-kidding-me look in its eye.

“Go, horse! Go, go,
go
!” I yelled, flapping my arms at it.

The drivers ditched their cigarettes and ran toward us. They were joined by Monica-Devon and the Hulk, and the debating carriage patrons, everyone screaming and hollering at Molly and me. That was all it took—the horse shot off like someone had tossed a firecracker under its tail, the momentum almost throwing me from the carriage.

I glanced over my shoulder to see if Molly was still with me. She was, and, judging by the look on her face, having the time of her life.

“Go, Ciel!” she yelled, bouncing up and down on the seat.

“Hold on to something!” I hollered back. “I’m not sure how to steer this thing!”

The horse knew its route and stuck to it, turning into the park at the designated spot. Didn’t slow down one iota, either. I can’t swear we took the corner on two wheels, but it sure felt close.

“Hey, Molls,” I said—loudly—hoping like hell my words wouldn’t get sucked up by the wind, because I didn’t want to take my eyes off the road. Or the horse. Not that it was paying a lot of attention to anything I was doing, direction-wise. “Do you have a cell phone?” Maybe she could call Mark.